I am going to lay it all out on the table…
Get ‘awkward’ out of the way and sheepishly admit to the presence of a ‘Voice’ in my head.
I used to be really worried about how people would respond if I admitted to the presence of the Voice, in fact, I used to be really worried about what other people thought in general. Proud to say I’m over that.
Getting over that.
Work in progress? I digress.
I am no longer hesitate to admit to the Voice,
because I know more of us have it than would admit it.
I also used to spend a great deal of time and energy trying to figure out what the Voice was. Is it my intuition? Is it a left over from my childhood imaginary friends? Dare I ask, “Is it GOD?”
It doesn’t matter what it is.
It’s here, and it loves me.
It is the only one that can start a sentence with “You should” without igniting the fiery defiance of my angstful inner teenager.
When I first promised myself that I would heed the guidance of The Voice, I’d argue with it at first. Then I’d recognize that I was arguing with the Voice in my head. When I finished laughing and cringing, remember my promise, shut up, and listen more closely to what it was suggesting.
The voice is very quiet in the beginning, because the world wants us to shut it out. It’s like starting a campfire with flint, you get this tiny spark that needs to be cultivated, protected and nourished.
You will KNOW you’ve encountered your own version of the Voice, when it only speaks in Love.
I also suspect that the Voice gives us gentle instructions one at a time, leading to the next, because it knows that if it gives us an instruction so out there, we will turn tail and run, nailing the door of communication shut and never wanting to hear from it again.
After all, if the voice said “You should get rid of everything you own and buy a one-way ticket to Paris with no idea where you’ll go after five days there” I too would have unequivocally tapped out.
Yet, the Voice is my true north in this mysterious unfolding.
An all-knowing, loving, compassionate presence that guided me across the Atlantic (yes, on that one-way ticket), walk 800km across Spain, then back to Canada to tie up loose ends before a cross-country move.